


All of Your Scars

by SummonerYuki



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Angst, Assassination, Attempted assassination, Backstory, Drama, F/F, F/M, Forbidden Love, Scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:29:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3926353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummonerYuki/pseuds/SummonerYuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how Katarina Du Couteau got her infamous scar (deviation from her canon lore). Still a relatively under-wraps (but by no means green) assassin, Katarina is sent on the biggest mission of her life thus far: to pose as a diplomat and infiltrate the royal family, with the sole purpose of assassinating the crown prince of Demacia during Ionia's annual Festival of Flowers. Set after the point in time when Cassiopeia became an angry snake-lady; takes place mostly in Demacia and parts of Ionia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Main pairing: Katarina/Garen. A mention of established Irelia/Karma, and some established Shyvana/Jarvan IV. Rated mature for graphic sexy-times and some violence (i.e. hello my name is Kat and I like to stab people)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short first chapter, just to set the scene. Takes place in Noxus. I'm not sure if I like the spacing yet, so I may be changing this later. University finals are almost over, please keep an eye out for upcoming chapters! :)

Not many visited Cassiopeia Du Couteau these days, but somehow Katarina always made time.

“Thanksss for the visit, sisss.”

Katarina smirked, but the joke on her sister’s new form of speech had long since been overdone, so she left it alone.

“Sure thing. It’s a welcome break.”

Cass’s eyes shone as she watched the other woman cross her legs across from her. “What have you brought me?” she asked excitedly, clicking together her long nails. The bags by Katarina’s sides opened, and Cass allowed herself a small gasp.

“Ionian star fruit are in season, I brought you some,” Kat explained, handing over one of the fruits. Cassiopeia carefully snatched it, her long nails breaking the skin of the fruit in her excitement. Katarina watched as juice dripped to the cool tile floor, the pearlescent orange sap indicative of its Ionian origins. “Don’t make such a mess.”

“Hushhh, darling, when have I last had ssstar fruit?” Cassiopeia replied blissfully, piercing the fruit with her front fangs and pulling a chunk into her mouth. She sighed, a small smile on her mouth as she chewed. Her sister reached forward and pulled a sliver of fruit skin that had gotten caught on one of her fangs, nodding when Cass thanked her. “What elssse?”

“A few more fruits, some dried meats, some Noxian wine… I picked this up for you from a local market,” Katarina added delicately, picking up a long golden chain from one of the bags. Every few links sported a dangling green jade stone, with one long chain and larger stone directly in the middle. Cass paused for a moment, eyeing the jewelry piece. Ever since her transformation, Cassiopeia had never quite felt as comfortable with her looks and new body as she had with her old one, and Katarina knew that. Oftentimes a new piece of jewelry or adornment could defer her self-loathing, but only temporarily. Regardless, to Katarina, her sister’s happiness was worth the almost weekly hassle of finding and haggling for a piece of jewelry that could help her find peace with her new body.

“…it’s gorgeousss,” the snake-woman replied, carefully setting her fruit down to reach for the chain. Her sister handed it over, watching as the woman wrapped it around her waist and settled the large jade piece down the front of her. The stone complemented her scales, and Katarina could tell Cassiopeia was pleased with that particular detail. “…thank you, Kat,” she sighed, picking her fruit back up and cradling it in her hands happily. Her sister smiled back at her, shrugging it off as she reached into the bag.

“I won’t be able to come for a while, Cass, father gave me a new mission,” she said nonchalantly as she tore into a bag of meat jerky. She opted for the raptor jerky rather than the less-expensive poro jerky, because something about eating those fuzzy little things just didn’t sit right with her. She tried to stay interested in the jerky but couldn’t help sneaking a peek at her sister; Cassiopeia had always been their father’s favorite because of the information she could bring him, but with her new condition, he had all but abandoned her. The snake-woman had purposely absorbed herself in looking at the chain that hung around her waist, and a pang of guilt rattled through Katarina’s chest. “…it’s an assassination, not an information run, so it’ll be messy work.”

“Mmm.”

“I’ll be posing as a diplomat from one of the islands. Do you remember Count Vissough?”

Cassiopeia’s nose wrinkled; the count was considered to be an “uncle” of theirs, but had always scared the girls when they were younger. “A vampire of a man.”

“I’m not thrilled to be traveling with him,” Katarina agreed, “even more so to be playing the part of his daughter.”

“Fathersss don’t look at their daughtersss the same way he looksss at usss.”

Katarina’s face darkened slightly; Cassie had always been in the corner of the Count’s eye, as if he was a predator and she was his prey. He never made a move worthy of retaliating, but he had always been there, watching and waiting. For a few of her late teenage years, when Cassiopeia had been at her most beautiful and most vulnerable, Katarina had taken painstakingly dreadful lengths to keep her safe, most of all from the Count. In a twisted way, it was almost a blessing that Cass’s body had transformed into one most men found grotesque, because for the first time in years Katarina could rest from her state of constant vigilance.

“Regardless,” Katarina continued with a small shake of her head, “it’s by father’s orders, and we’ll be attending Ionia’s Festival of Flowers as guests of the royal family as a means of ‘alliancing’ with both countries.”

“… _both_ countriesss?”

Katarina hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yes, both countries. Ionia and Demacia.”

A small, unconscious hiss escaped her sister’s mouth. The rivalry between Noxus and Demacia ran so deep that even the mere mention of the country would call a reaction similar to Cass’s from any Noxian mouth. Katarina herself had been disgusted to be placed in the country, but the prospect of mission was just too grand.

“If all goes well, there won’t _be_ a Demacia after we’re through with it,” she assured her, and Cassiopeia tilted her head, eyes narrowing.

“Sissster… pray tell,” she began, bringing the fruit back up to her mouth with a glint in her eye, “who exactly will you be slaying this time around?”

Katarina grinned, bringing up a strip of jerky to her mouth to viciously tear off a chunk with her teeth.

“Why, my dear sister,” she replied with a carnivorous smile, “wonderful that you should ask. I’ll be assassinating the crown prince of Demacia.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Katarina is officially an ambassador! Takes place in Demacia. A much longer chapter this time, so expect to see chapters from here on out to be this length or longer :)

Katarina coughed uncomfortably, and the Count next to her glared. The two of them stood at attention in front of an empty throne, surrounded by the Noxian fighters they’d posed as guards. All of them were on edge; their journey was years in the making, with trade routes, shipping containers, festivals, landmarks, and other worldbuilding details fabricated over the last decade or so. Passing off as an imaginary country for the sake of entering into Demacia would be no easy feat, but to be blessed by Demacia’s recognition would enable them not only to carry out their current mission, but to continue the façade for as long as it took them to be caught.

“Abel Gordeau?”

Katarina’s back stiffened, but the Count relaxed and put on his best non-venomous smile.

“Yes?” he replied, turning towards a Demacian soldier that strode into the room, holding the customs papers the Count had given him earlier. Katarina scrutinized the soldier’s pose; he was holding his weapon loosely, and had no sidearms on him—knives, shivs, anything of the sort. They seemed to be in clear, for the moment. Her body relaxed.

“Your papers seem to be in order. Demacia welcomes you,” the soldier greeted warmly, a friendly smile present beneath the shadows of his helmet. “Prince Jarvan is extremely busy, please excuse the wait. He will be arriving shortly. Your audience is of utmost importance to him.”

“Of course, it’s an honor to receive audience with him,” the Count replied with a grin that sent shivers down Katarina’s spine. Once, when she was young, she wandered too far in the forest alone with Cass, and the two witnessed a snake catch a young mouse for lunch. At such a young age they’d been scarred, to say the least, and Cassiopeia had ironically developed a fear of snakes for years to come. Since then, the Count and his grins had often reminded her of the snake: not vicious, not calculating. Simply doing what it found necessary, in what appeared to them as the cruelest way possible.

For the Count, violence was _always_ necessary.

The soldier nodded back and took his place at the foot of the prince’s throne, standing at attention and letting his gaze fixate on the door behind them all. Kat wondered briefly if all of Demacia was this oblivious.

“At attention for the crown prince of Demacia!”

The woman’s shoulders stiffened again.

The side door the soldier had entered from opened again, and after a moment, a woman stepped through. Katarina’s eyes narrowed; Demacia was full of bright colors, with sunny yellows and royal blues betraying nationality. But this woman was clothed in the darkest of blood, and the horns that spiraled from her helmet left no mistake: this was Demacia’s crown jewel of a weapon, the half-dragon known as Shyvana. Many of Katarina’s friends had perished beneath her fires, and she wanted nothing more than to pull the blade concealed at her back and slit her throat right there. She glanced at the Count. Though his face was calm, she could see his eyes had darkened, and she knew he was thinking the same. She moved her clasped hands from her front to her back.

Behind the woman was a teenager, her bright blonde hair contrasting sharply against the dragon’s sour demeanor. She hopped in small bounces as she stepped, and the childishness of her entire composure made Katarina want to roll her eyes. Marching along after her was a large, rouge-ish looking man with wide shoulders. Of the three, he was the only one to carry a weapon: a large, thick sword the length of his leg. It remained sheathed, but a large hand rested on its hilt. Katarina almost nodded; at least _someone_ seemed to have their head on straight in this place.

A few more non-distinguishable guards, dressed not unlike the one at the throne, trailed along behind them until heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the hall. The first three in the line—the dragon, the teenager, and the mountain—stood together on one side of the throne. The remaining guards formed a corridor at the door, and the one closest to the throne bashed the end of his weapon on the marble floor.

“At attention for the crown prince of Demacia, his highness Prince Jarvan the Fourth!”

The first thing Katarina thought was _bumblebee._

The prince strode through the door, waving a hand for calm, dressed in his full armor of gold and spikes. The armor itself was gold; the spikes were a deep black. A sapphire gem set into his helmet matched his shining eyes, which were unaware as he settled himself into his throne.

“At ease, at ease, these are our guests,” he announced graciously, smiling in turn at both the Count and Katarina. “Ambassadors of the country of Xenia. Please, tell us about yourselves.”

The Count bowed deeply. “Abel Gordeau, at your service,” he replied. “It is an honor to be in your presence. This is my niece, Katarina Gordeau—”

Katarina bowed, the tip of the dagger at her back scraping her skin.

“—an accomplished young woman looking to follow in her uncle’s footsteps.”

“Is that true, Katarina?” the prince asked in a joking tone. “You wish to become a formal ambassador?”

“Yes sir, it’s a noble profession to extend an olive branch or to help another country in their time of need,” she replied with as much of a smile as she could manage, hoping it seemed coy. She looked up into the prince’s eyes as she spoke, and he beamed back at her.

“Well said,” he acknowledged, “a noble profession indeed. I’d like to think that this visit is for an olive branch?”

“If you would be so generous in considering us for an alliance, all of Xenia would be grateful,” the Count replied in Katarina’s place. “I know we are a small country, but our trading routes are secure and our harvests are bountiful. We have wells for mining precious metals and coals, and we raise fine horses for battle. We can provide resources profitable to Demacia.”

“An olive branch indeed. Why send ambassadors rather than a gift?”

“Demacia and its royal family is known for its great sense of justice and steadfast economy, but it is our duty to know personally who Xenia is alliancing itself with, for the safety of our country. We bring gifts as well, but believe that this is a personal matter and not one that should be determined with bribes or impersonal pleasantries.”

As much as she hated to admit it sometimes, the Count was certainly good at what he did; he could sell blood but speak of it as if it were honey, and someone would buy it.

The prince seemed impressed, and he nodded his approval. “Then by all means, for the duration of your stay, our home is your home. A guest house has been prepared for you amongst the nobles of the inner kingdom, and for Katarina, I’ve assigned some trusted guardians her own age to show her around.”

Katarina’s attention piqued, and she looked towards the original three that had entered the room. The teenager was now bouncing on the balls of her feet at rapid speed, and upon seeing she had Katarina’s attention, waved furiously. The mountain man beside her gently but firmly took her arm and placed it back at her side, but it did nothing for the bouncing.

“It’d do better for Miss Gordeau to learn about our customs and traditions from inside the city rather than through political discussions, I would think,” the prince continued with a small smile, “as she and her peers will one day inherit our places. How best to learn about Demacia than from its streets?”

“A very noble and wise offer, your highness,” the Count replied with another bow, “one that Katarina graciously accepts.”

Katarina bowed quickly to avoid eye contact.

“Very well then. Let us leave the young ones to themselves, and gather at the Emissary Suite to further discuss logistics.”

The prince rose, and the Noxians bowed together. Katarina dreaded leaning back up, but she did, and was promptly rammed in the chest by a ball of light.

 _“Katarina!_ It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Lux!”

The bouncing girl held her in a tight embrace for a few moments before letting go, squealing with delight. Looking closer, the girl seemed a few years her junior, but the wand at her side spoke of magic she knew wouldn’t be entrusted to just any teenager.

“…it’s a pleasure to meet y—”

“This is Garen, my brother! Garen, say hi!”

Katarina looked up to meet the eyes of the large man Lux had stood next to, who trailed behind her a few paces back. His eyes were the color of mud, and his expression was just as dull.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she responded completely this time, and Garen grunted in response.

“…Garen Crownguard,” he replied with a small nod before focusing his gaze elsewhere. Katarina steeled her face to keep from frowning while Lux puffed her cheeks out.

“I’m sorry he’s such a grumpy butt, he doesn’t like that he’s missing his training right now,” she said in his place, reaching out without looking to grab Katarina’s arm. Kat took in a large breath and let it out slowly. “It’s an honor to be asked to represent Demacia for something as important as gaining a new ally, but for Garen it’s always train-train-train, fight-fight-fight.”

Kat swallowed her bitterness and forced a smile, asking, “What do you train in?”

She could see in Garen’s eyes that he was considering not even responding to such a stupid question, what with the sword at his side. But between politics and Lux’s stare, he responded slowly, “Mainly swordfighting and hand-to-hand combat.”

“Garen is a commander in the king’s army, and Prince Jarvan’s right-hand man,” Lux added proudly, beaming at her brother and then at Katarina. She almost quite literally sparkled as she spoke. “We don’t really get to work together often, because I’m from the College of Magic and he’s from Mr. Tough Guy Town, but this is our first assignment together and I don’t want training to interfere with it, y’know? Garen trains enough!”

“Training dulls the blade. Lack of training dulls the mind,” Garen grunted at her, something Katarina recognized as an Ionian proverb. “I’d much rather have a dull blade than fall behind in battle.”

Lux blessed off the comment with a wave over hand and a flip of her blonde hair. “Yeah yeah, you only paid attention in school so you could quote lame things like that. But if you insist, we can show Kat—can I call you Kat?—around the barracks at least!”

Garen seemed satisfied with the compromise, nodding before turning quickly towards the door. Lux gave a tug at the Noxian’s arm, stepping forward to properly link their arms together.

“Well, Kat,” she said with a grin, “welcome to Demacia!”


End file.
